


The Cure

by intothegarbagechute



Series: Patent Leather Ensign [3]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Absolute Trash, Cunnilingus, F/M, Force Dicks, Multiple Force-Dick Penetration, Nipple Play, Other, PWP, Reader-Insert, Smut, They/Them Insert, Verbal Humiliation, and again: trash, sub!Kylo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-03
Updated: 2016-01-19
Packaged: 2018-05-11 07:11:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,936
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5617900
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/intothegarbagechute/pseuds/intothegarbagechute
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When we last left our Reader Insert, she wasn't sure about continuing her carnal calls with Kylo Ren. Will she meet up with him again? Will he still really want to eat her out? Will she make him beg for it?</p><p>Yes. Next question.</p><p>Chapter 1 is for She/Her users</p><p>Chapter 2 is for They/Them users</p><p>everything is garbage; everything is trash</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. She/Her

Look, General Hux’s personal ensign knew she wasn’t the most emotionally stable person. She was excellent at her job: efficient, unquestioning, and she worked for a pretty evil sociopath. She didn’t have the time or the inclination for romance, intimacy, or usually even a bedfellow— she was self-sufficient like that. But ever since her last— encounter— with Kylo Ren, she found she couldn’t stop thinking about him. In the middle of a morning shower, the mood would strike, and she’d barely begin to touch herself when the memories— of his sinful lips, those desperate, hungry eyes, those asymetrical freckles pressed hard between her thighs— would take over. And she hated herself for it. 

 

But she was a woman who knew what she wanted, and got it. She just had to get this out of her system. 

 

Kylo Ren was true to his word. General Hux had told her he would be delivering personal messages directly to the Knight from now on. And he’d looked pretty mischievous as he’d said it, she thought. Maybe he’d noticed how she’d accidentally left the pad with the document in Ren’s quarters. In any case, now there was no excuse, no catalyst.

 

She didn’t need a catalyst. She needed a cure.

 

She could feel herself growing wetter with every click-clack of her heels towards Kylo’s quarters. She tried to steady her breath. But it had been days of thinking of him, of seeing him from a distance, of squirming her legs crossed and uncrossed. She hated how ready she was, how much she wanted this, how out of control she felt. She was here to take back that control.

 

She knocked, and the doors swooshed open, almost as though he had sensed her arrival. He probably had, she realized. He slowly stepped backward. And she slowly followed him. As the doors whooshed closed, he took off his helmet and gloves and held them out to her: an offering of his submission. She took them and set them aside. His eyes scanned her face; but unlike his, which read like an open book, hers was used to being exposed: guarded. So he took off his tunic and shirt and slowly knelt at her feet, bowing his curls towards her.

 

“You own me,” he said. “Please. Destroy me.” She fought to keep her breathing even.

 

“You like that I do,” she said. “Yes,” he responded, still not looking at her.

 

“What a broken, shameful man you are,” she said. “I am,” he said, nodding. 

 

She stepped forward, grabbing the curls and pressing his head into her pelvis. He sighed, inhaling deeply, smelling the scent of her, pressing against the heat of her.

 

“Filthy,” she whispered. He looked up at her through his long eyelashes. His hazel eyes were clear, full, and so so desperate. “What shall I do with you today?” she asked him. 

 

“Please,” he said. “I can’t stop thinking about the way you taste.” Her breath hitched. 

 

“May I? Please?” he asked, running his fingertips along the zipper to her uniform, glancing up at her. She nodded, and he unzipped and slipped the skirt down her beautiful legs, caressing them as he went, worshiping them with his hands. He took her hips in his large hands, letting his long thumbs caress over her hipbones. He slowly walked forward on his knees, backing her up on those high, high heels, until her back rested against the closed door. She gasped, realizing what was behind her, how it could open at any moment, then looked down at his face, his mouth hanging open wantonly. He licked his lips, and she nodded again.

 

He laid kisses up her thighs, using his hands to gently part her knees, making space. Then, he nuzzled into her, pressing his large nose against her panties— so, so wet at this point— and parting her through the fabric. He was absolutely obscene. He moaned as he felt the dampness of the fabric, and she tilted her head back at the sound. He prodded, nuzzling more and more, feeling her space, and she couldn’t believe how turned on she was by this alone.  Then a hand brushed up and slowly peeled her panties down, letting them rest below her knees. She thought how filthy he looked, how owned, as he looked at her gorgeous pussy.

 

“Stop,” she said, and he did, tormented by the directive. “Tell me you’re a filthy fuckboy,” she said.

 

“I’m a filthy fuckboy,” he said, and it was a plea, begging her to let him touch her. “Just a worthless, filthy fuckboy. You own my body.” She nodded.

 

Released, he quickly pressed his mouth to her. She couldn’t help it— she grabbed his hair roughly at the sensations he was laying into her, moving him where she needed him. A pleased moan rumbled out of him, and he lifted her leg and swung it over his bare shoulder, lifting and pressing her against the door until he had the access he needed. She realized she was off the ground when her other shoe dangled from her toes. He kissed at her, letting his tongue swirl again and again over her clit, trailing a long finger inside of her, sucking at the wetness of her. She tugged again at his hair, desperate to get him closer, not caring how much he knew. He moaned greedily at her, the sound vibrating into her. She had been waiting days for this. The heat was building and building in her, and it wasn’t long before she yelled out curses, digging her heel into his ribs and tugging desperately at his dark, beautiful curls. He pressed her, gently, helping her rock through the sensation, letting it course and pulse through her.

 

He carefully lowered her to the ground, bringing her leg back over his shoulder, and fussing her foot back into her high heel. Once she was steady, he backed up, kneeling in the middle of the floor, his head slightly bowed, just waiting. She took a step forward, noticing the panties still hooked onto one foot. She felt absolutely, obscenely wrecked by this man. She could hike the underwear up and walk away right now, and leave him just like this. Nothing more intimate or personal. Wasn’t that what she wanted? Hadn’t that been her plan?

 

She looked at his torso, where her crop hadn’t left a single mark. Where her newest heel-mark would soon fade. Down to his trousers, where that long cock was pressing, straining at the fabric, desperate to be touched, and yet: restrained. Set aside, for her pleasure. She had a bad feeling about this.

 

She grabbed his chin and directed his gaze upward, toward her. He said nothing, just watched as she raised a hand to her throat and withdrew the end of her jacket zipper. She could see him swallow, hard, as she slowly, slowly zipped it down to the middle of her chest. His eyes flicked to the swell of her breasts now visible within her jacket. His mouth dropped open again, wet and horrible and full of desire.

 

“Do you want to see them?” she asked. “Yes,” he said, his voice cracking with want. She smirked and slowly took the zipper to its end, revealing a gorgeous black silk corset beneath the jacket. She slipped one shoulder off, revealing a breast, and Kylo’s eyes went wide and dark. She slipped the other shoulder off, letting the jacket fall to the floor. She stood before him in those patent leather heels and the corset alone. She could see the dark desire in him, practically feel his need to touch her. So she didn’t let him.

 

“Trousers. Off,” she said, and he wriggled out of them, tossing his boots aside quickly, coming back to kneel before her, completely naked, completely open to her.

 

“Manacles. Bed. Now,” she ordered, and he complied: using the Force to bring the manacles onto his wrists and setting them into the hook in the measure of an eyeblink. She took a deep breath, trying to focus. She stepped around to the very end of the bed, and knelt between his legs. He looked back at her, tortured, clearly desperate to touch her.

 

“Are you a good boy, or a bad boy?” she asked simply.

 

“Bad,” he said softly. She cocked her head to the side. “I’m very bad. I’m a filthy fuckboy. A dirty slut,” he added, getting into it.

 

“Touch me,” she said, and he lurched forward, eager and desperate. “With your mind,” she added. “And watch. Like the dirty slut you are.” He settled back, looking straight at her, and she felt invisible hands trace and press her nipples, felt a mouth kiss and suck at them, another hand glide up her throat and put its fingers into her mouth. She sucked at them roughly, not taking her eyes off the tortured desire in his eyes. He watched the heat rise in her, the pleasure, and heard her soft moan at invisible fingers finding her wet and dripping once again.

 

“I’m so wet for you,” she said. “Every day. Everywhere I go.” He sucked in a breath, whining a little on the exhale, chancing a glance at his leaking cock. She licked her lips, and he didn’t miss it. His hips thrust up for a second, all on their own, his cock begging for her mouth.

 

“No. I want you to fuck me,” she said. 

 

“Yes,” he said. She felt the invisible cock press into her, and started rolling against it, against the finger circling her clit, the invisible fingers that knew her body so well. 

 

“Take my ass,” she added, staring at him. His eyes blew wide. “Yes,” he said, and she felt the gentle pressure of his invisible cock pressing into her ass. She gasped as it filled her, so so full.

 

“I would never let you do this to me,” she told him, and he lay there, helpless, cock throbbing. “I’d let dozens of other men take me before you could,” she told him. “Watch them do it,” she said. His eyes were so dark, so broken, as he watched her get completely fucked by his mind.

 

_“Please_ ,” she heard him whisper, and she slowed her thrusts to look at him. “ _Please,_ ” he repeated softly.

 

“You like watching this,” she said. 

 

“Yes,” he whispered in reply, “I do. But please… I don’t have to come. I just want to feel you, with my hands.” She realized he was crying a little, his cock throbbing with desire, purpling a little.

 

“Release me,” she said, and the invisible fingers and mouths and cocks disappeared. She crawled forward between his legs and slapped his cock. He let out a scream at the contact, and she slapped his face, hard. He’d waited long enough. She had to see what he would do.

 

“Take the manacles off,” she said, “And you may touch me.”

 

The manacles basically disappeared and he set his fingers carefully on her hips, letting them trail along her beautiful waist, up, until he reached her breasts. He paused for a moment, as though wondering where to start, and stood, grasping her breasts in his hands, gently moving his fingers over her nipples, circling them— everything she had felt before, but _warm. Here._ She realized: he could feel the sensation back. He had touched her so many times with his mind, but felt nothing from it; he only got to see her pleasure. Just the thought of it made her hot, seeing his face feel the softness of her, the fullness of her, the awe of it for him. She cupped his cheek in her palm, and he bent down to lay kisses across her collarbone, slowly making his way lower, until he could swipe his tongue on her nipple. She couldn’t help it— she let out a very soft moan. Encouraged, he licked and kissed his way across them both, teasing the skin, until she was grabbing his hair again, this time just to hold on.

 

“I’m— I’m so hard. I’ve been so hard for days, hoping you’d come. I don’t deserve this pleasure,” he said, his voice wavering.

 

He gasped as she grabbed his throbbing, leaking cock, and slid it inside of her. She moaned loudly at the sensation— the real thing was better, so so much better. Kylo held his hips still, letting her work.

 

“No, I want you to _fuck me_ ,” she repeated, and he groaned deeply, rolling his hips into hers with abandon. His hands were on her, pressing and touching, and did he actually have three arms? They thrust together, desperate for relief, and he threw his head back, moaning wantonly. She felt him on her clit— his actual hand— felt how hot it made him, to be _touching her_ , to feel her in his hands. 

 

“You fucking slut,” she said. She slapped him hard across the face, and he cried out in pleasure. He sat up, putting his lips to her nipple, his hands working her into a fever again. She rolled her hips into him, grabbing his ass, drawing it into her, controlling him again.

 

“What’s taking you so long?” she asked.

 

“I can’t come unless you tell me,” he answered quickly, and she saw the depth of his need, that he hadn’t finished for _days_ , as he held his hand to her head, showing her his feelings, his mind, everything. She saw how he saw her: so gorgeous, so indescribably hot, so powerful, how she _felt_ to him. 

 

“Fuck me harder, Kylo,” she demanded, her breath ragged. She grabbed his ass, hard, and he let his hand drop, leaving her to her experience, and he groaned into her wantonly, obscene the way he flung his head back, looking like sin.

 

“Tell me you want it,” she said breathlessly.

 

“ _I need it,_ ” he said.

 

“Beg me,” she said.

 

“ _Please, please, I need it_ , I’ll do _anything_ ,” he said. His eyes were bleary with pleasure. He set his swolen lips, then teeth, to her nipple again, gently probing her clit with his fingers, and took her over the edge. She threw her head back as her body shook with pleasure. He growled deeply.

 

“Come for me,” she said, and he was over the edge, moaning her name loudly, so so obscenely, swearing. Still he kept pressing, holding her to her pleasure, making sure she took every ounce of it, long after his was gone.

 

***

 

She awoke an hour later, her fingers curled in his hair, his head on her chest, his long legs wrapped around her. At first she thought he was asleep. But he felt her stir, and looked back up at her through those long, idiot eyelashes, his large hand pressed to her hip. Wondering what happens next. 


	2. They/Them

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Same story; different pronouns: they/them

Look, General Hux’s personal ensign knew they weren’t the most emotionally stable person. They were excellent at their job: efficient, unquestioning, and they worked for a pretty evil sociopath. They didn’t have the time or the inclination for romance, intimacy, or usually even a bedfellow— they were self-sufficient like that. But ever since their last— encounter— with Kylo Ren, they found they couldn’t stop thinking about him. In the middle of a morning shower, the mood would strike, and they’d barely begin to touch themelf when the memories— of his sinful lips, those desperate, hungry eyes, those asymetrical freckles pressed hard between their thighs— would take over. And they hated themself for it. 

 

But they were a person who knew what they wanted, and got it. They just had to get this out of their system. 

 

Kylo Ren was true to his word. General Hux had told them he would be delivering personal messages directly to the Knight from now on. And he’d looked pretty mischievous as he’d said it, they thought. Maybe he’d noticed how they’d accidentally left the pad with the document in Ren’s quarters. In any case, now there was no excuse, no catalyst.

 

They didn’t need a catalyst. They needed a cure.

 

They could feel themself growing wetter with every click-clack of their heels towards Kylo’s quarters. They tried to steady their breath. But it had been days of thinking of him, of seeing him from a distance, of squirming their legs crossed and uncrossed. They hated how ready they were, how much they wanted this, how out of control they felt. They were here to take back that control.

 

They knocked, and the doors swooshed open, almost as though he had sensed their arrival. He probably had, they realized. He slowly stepped backward. And they slowly followed him. As the doors whooshed closed, he took off his helmet and gloves and held the items out to them: an offering of his submission. They took the offering and set it aside. His eyes scanned their face; but unlike his, which read like an open book, theirs was used to being exposed: guarded. So he took off his tunic and shirt and slowly knelt at their feet, bowing his curls towards them.

 

“You own me,” he said. “Please. Destroy me.” They fought to keep their breathing even.

 

“You like that I do,” they said. “Yes,” he responded, still not looking at them.

 

“What a broken, shameful man you are,” they said. “I am,” he said, nodding. 

 

They stepped forward, grabbing the curls and pressing his head into their pelvis. He sighed, inhaling deeply, smelling the scent of them, pressing against the heat of them.

 

“Filthy,” they whispered. He looked up at their through his long eyelashes. His hazel eyes were clear, full, and so so desperate. “What shall I do with you today?” they asked him. 

 

“Please,” he said. “I can’t stop thinking about the way you taste.” Their breath hitched. 

 

“May I? Please?” he asked, running his fingertips along the zipper to their uniform, glancing up at them. They nodded, and he unzipped and slipped the skirt down their beautiful legs, caressing them as he went, worshiping them with his hands. He took their hips in his large hands, letting his long thumbs caress over their hipbones. He slowly walked forward on his knees, backing them up on those high, high heels, until their back rested against the closed door. They gasped, realizing what was behind them, how it could open at any moment, then looked down at his face, his mouth hanging open wantonly. He licked his lips, and they nodded again.

 

He laid kisses up their thighs, using his hands to gently part their knees, making space. Then, he nuzzled into them, pressing his large nose against their panties— so, so wet at this point— and parting them through the fabric. He was absolutely obscene. He moaned as he felt the dampness of the fabric, and they tilted their head back at the sound. He prodded, nuzzling more and more, feeling their space, and they couldn’t believe how turned on they were by this alone. 

 

Then a hand brushed up and slowly peeled their panties down, letting the fabric rest below their knees. They thought how filthy he looked, how owned, as he looked at their gorgeous pussy.

 

“Stop,” they said, and he did, tormented by the directive. “Tell me you’re a filthy fuckboy,” they said.

 

“I’m a filthy fuckboy,” he said, and it was a plea, begging them to let him touch them. “Just a worthless, filthy fuckboy. You own my body.” They nodded.

 

Released, he quickly pressed his mouth to them. They couldn’t help it— they grabbed his hair roughly at the sensations he was laying into them, moving him where they needed him. A pleased moan rumbled out of him, and he lifted their leg and swung it over his bare shoulder, lifting and pressing them against the door until he had the access he needed. They realized they were off the ground when their other shoe dangled from their toes. He kissed at them, letting his tongue swirl again and again over their clit, trailing a long finger inside of them, sucking at the wetness of them. They tugged again at his hair, desperate to get him closer, not caring how much he knew. He moaned greedily at them, the sound vibrating into them. They had been waiting days for this. The heat was building and building in them, and it wasn’t long before they yelled out curses, digging their heel into his ribs and tugging desperately at his dark, beautiful curls. He pressed them, gently, helping them rock through the sensation, letting it course and pulse through them.

 

He carefully lowered them to the ground, bringing their leg back over his shoulder, and fussing their foot back into their high heel. Once they were steady, he backed up, kneeling in the middle of the floor, his head slightly bowed, just waiting. They took a step forward, noticing the panties still hooked onto one foot. They felt absolutely, obscenely wrecked by this man. They could hike the underwear up and walk away right now, and leave him just like this. Nothing more intimate or personal. Wasn’t that what they wanted? Hadn’t that been their plan?

 

They looked at his torso, where their crop hadn’t left a single mark. Where their newest heel-mark would soon fade. Down to his trousers, where that long cock was pressing, straining at the fabric, desperate to be touched, and yet: restrained. Set aside, for their pleasure. They had a bad feeling about this.

 

They grabbed his chin and directed his gaze upward, toward them. He said nothing, just watched as they raised a hand to their throat and withdrew the end of their jacket zipper. They could see him swallow, hard, as they slowly, slowly zipped it down to the middle of their chest. His eyes flicked to the swell of their breasts now visible within their jacket. His mouth dropped open again, wet and horrible and full of desire.

 

“Do you want to see me?” they asked. “Yes,” he said, his voice cracking with want. They smirked and slowly took the zipper to its end, revealing a gorgeous black silk corset beneath the jacket. They slipped one shoulder off, revealing a breast, and Kylo’s eyes went wide and dark. They slipped the other shoulder off, letting the jacket fall to the floor. They stood before him in those patent leather heels and the corset alone. They could see the dark desire in him, practically feel his need to touch them. So they didn’t let him.

 

“Trousers. Off,” they said, and he wriggled out of them, tossing his boots aside quickly, coming back to kneel before them, completely naked, completely open to them.

 

“Manacles. Bed. Now,” they ordered, and he complied: using the Force to bring the manacles onto his wrists and setting the chain into the hook in the measure of an eyeblink. They took a deep breath, trying to focus. They stepped around to the very end of the bed, and knelt between his legs. He looked back at them, tortured, clearly desperate to touch them.

 

“Are you a good boy, or a bad boy?” they asked simply.

 

“Bad,” he said softly. They cocked their head to the side. “I’m very bad. I’m a filthy fuckboy. A dirty slut,” he added, getting into it.

 

“Touch me,” they said, and he lurched forward, eager and desperate. “With your mind,” they added. “And watch. Like the dirty slut you are.” He settled back, looking straight at them, and they felt invisible hands trace and press their nipples, felt a mouth kiss and suck at them, another hand glide up their throat and put its fingers into their mouth. They sucked at them roughly, not taking their eyes off the tortured desire in his eyes. He watched the heat rise in them, the pleasure, and heard their soft moan at invisible fingers finding them wet and dripping once again.

 

“I’m so wet for you,” they said. “Every day. Everywhere I go.” He sucked in a breath, whining a little on the exhale, chancing a glance at his leaking cock. They licked their lips, and he didn’t miss it. His hips thrust up for a second, all on their own, his cock begging for their mouth.

 

“No. I want you to fuck me,” they said. 

 

“Yes,” he said. They felt the invisible cock press into them, and started rolling against it, against the finger circling their clit, the invisible fingers that knew their body so well. 

 

“Take my ass,” they added, staring at him. His eyes blew wide. “Yes,” he said, and they felt the gentle pressure of his invisible cock pressing into their ass. They gasped as it filled them, so so full.

 

“I would never let you do this to me,” they told him, and he lay there, helpless, cock throbbing. “I’d let dozens of other men take me before you could,” they told him. “Watch them do it,” they said. His eyes were so dark, so broken, as he watched them get completely fucked by his mind.

 

_“Please_ ,” they heard him whisper, and they slowed their thrusts to look at him. “ _Please,_ ” he repeated softly.

 

“You like watching this,” they said. 

 

“Yes,” he whispered in reply, “I do. But please… I don’t have to come. I just want to feel you, with my hands.” They realized he was crying a little, his cock throbbing with desire, purpling a little.

 

“Release me,” they said, and the invisible fingers and mouths and cocks disappeared. They crawled forward between his legs and slapped his cock. He let out a scream at the contact, and they slapped his face, hard. He’d waited long enough. They had to see what he would do.

 

“Take the manacles off,” they said, “And you may touch me.”

 

The manacles basically disappeared and he set his fingers carefully on their hips, letting them trail along their beautiful waist, up, until he reached their breasts. He paused for a moment, as though wondering where to start, and stood, grasping their breasts in his hands, gently moving his fingers over their nipples, circling them— everything they had felt before, but _warm. Here._ They realized: he could feel the sensation back. He had touched them so many times with his mind, but felt nothing from it; he only got to see their pleasure. Just the thought of it made them hot, seeing his face feel the softness of them, the fullness of them, the awe of it for him. They cupped his cheek in their palm, and he bent down to lay kisses across their collarbone, slowly making his way lower, until he could swipe his tongue on their nipple. They couldn’t help it— they let out a very soft moan. Encouraged, he licked and kissed his way across both nipples, teasing the skin, until they were grabbing his hair again, this time just to hold on.

 

“I’m— I’m so hard. I’ve been so hard for days, hoping you’d come. I don’t deserve this pleasure,” he said, his voice wavering.

 

He gasped as they touched his throbbing, leaking cock, and slid it inside of their. They moaned loudly at the sensation— the real thing was better, so so much better. Kylo held his hips still, letting them work.

 

“No, I want you to _fuck me_ ,” they repeated, and he groaned deeply, rolling his hips into theirs with abandon. His hands were on them, pressing and touching, and did he actually have three arms? They thrust together, desperate for relief, and he threw his head back, moaning wantonly. They felt him on their clit— his actual hand— felt how hot it made him, to be _touching them_ , to feel them in his hands. 

 

“You fucking slut,” they said. They slapped him hard across the face, and he cried out in pleasure. He sat up, putting his lips to their nipple, his hands working them into a fever again. They rolled their hips into him, grabbing his ass, drawing it into them, controlling him again.

 

“What’s taking you so long?” they asked.

 

“I can’t come unless you tell me,” he answered quickly, and they saw the depth of his need, that he hadn’t finished for _days_ , as he held his hand to their head, showing their his feelings, his mind, everything. They saw how he saw them: so gorgeous, so indescribably hot, so powerful, how they _felt_ to him. 

 

“Fuck me harder, Kylo,” they demanded, their breath ragged. They grabbed his ass, hard, and he let his hand drop, leaving them to their experience, and he groaned into them wantonly, obscene the way he flung his head back, looking like sin.

 

“Tell me you want it,” they said breathlessly.

 

“ _I need it,_ ” he said.

 

“Beg me,” they said.

 

“ _Please, please, I need it_ , I’ll do _anything_ ,” he said. His eyes were bleary with pleasure. He set his swolen lips, then teeth, to their nipple again, gently probing their clit with his fingers, and took them over the edge. They threw their head back as their body shook with pleasure. He growled deeply.

 

“Come for me,” they said, and he was finished, moaning their name loudly, so so obscenely, swearing. Still he kept pressing, holding them to their pleasure, making sure they took every ounce of it, long after his was gone.

 

***

 

They awoke an hour later, their fingers curled in his hair, his head on their chest, his long legs wrapped around them. At first they thought he was asleep. But he felt them stir, and looked back up at them through those long, idiot eyelashes, his large hand pressed to their hip. Wondering what happened next. 

**Author's Note:**

> Hey my fellow trash queens: 
> 
> News update: I've been able to write at a really rapid pace over the holidays, and that is sadly soon to change as I return to the Real World of Real Responsibilities. Please stay tuned, I just can't quit you, and I will keep writing, but geez I've had a new fic like every day! But I'll keep updating this FOR SURE, and expect some other small one-offs in different pairings!
> 
> Yours in Sin,  
> intothegarbagechute xoxo


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